Dark Star
by dearestfandoms
Summary: [No curse AU] A bright, shining star, young Emma grew up a princess, loved by her mother and father. At least that's what she thought. Until one day, the world as she saw it shattered. Broken by her new reality, Emma learns to accept things aren't always as they once seemed. Enemies become allies. Heroes are a lie. True love cannot break the curse that she is. A dark, cursed star.


**A/N: This is the first chapter to a fic I've had in the works for a while. Finally publishing the first chapter! Ah! The rating is currently T but it might change to M as more chapters are released. **

**Also, disclaimer: this story will feature CS as it continues. :)  
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**I hope you enjoy my new story!**

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><p>Emma entered her vast room, closing the large doors behind her and resting her back against the cold wood. She closed her eyes and breathed in deep through her nose, holding it for a moment before letting her breath escape steadily through her lips. Her green eyes flicked open and determinedly focused on the far window. As she traversed the length of her room, she began undoing the clothing fasteners down her back. Silken scarlet fabric tumbled to the floor around her ankles soon after, a gown once elegant now reduced to a hastily deposited heap on the marble floor. Without missing a beat, she stepped over the gown, kicking the bundle of fabric away to free a tangled foot. Her hands swiftly found the pins fastened on her head, releasing them from her hair as blonde curls tumbled down her back and over her shoulders. Reaching the window, she threw open the panes and welcomed the cool breeze against her face as it played with her hair and the edges of her cotton chemise.<p>

Emma sighed and leaned against the ledge, resting her head in her hands. The view from her bed chamber was far from the best, but she was too exhausted to venture to the other side of the large castle for the view she preferred. She closed her eyes as the day's events flashed through her mind's eye: what felt like hundreds of dress fittings; servants bustling about, asking her which of _this_ she liked best, which of _that_ she liked best; and dinner consisting of only taste-testing a little of everything, yet not enough of anything. Emma was turning sixteen in a few days' time and throughout the chaos of the ceremony preparation, she barely had any time to breathe.

When she was young, she enjoyed the parties her parents would host. But more than the end result itself, the anticipation and preparation that her birthday created every year was more often the most memorable for her.

Trying on dresses and showing them off in a twirl to her father, who smiled back and always told her that he never saw her any more beautiful than she was right then; and each year she shone brighter than the last.

Watching her mother through the looking glass, fixing her daughter's hair into intricate designs as she folded her blonde tresses into braids with a soft smile dancing on her face.

Listening to the musicians auditioning to play at her party, her father suddenly whisking her into a dance—letting her stand on his feet as he moved to the music, then spinning her around and lifting her in the air, only to land in his arms and in his rough yet warm kiss.

Young Emma would fondly imagine her future sixteenth birthday and its formal coming-of-age ceremony with more excitement. Of trying on several gorgeous, sparkling ball gowns unlike anything she's ever worn before. Of hearing the tales of her mother's coming of age ceremony as she practices various hair styles from braids to twists to chignons. Of seeing the gleam in her parents' eyes as she is presented before the guests. Of having the first dance of the ball with her father.

And all the while being incandescently happy from beginning to end. But it all turned out much differently from what she had imagined back then.

Her eyes darkened at the nostalgic feeling that had boiled to the surface—which only left a bitter taste in her mouth, a dark knot twisting deep in the pit of her stomach, and a scowl souring her face. Now, she only felt dark dread instead of excited anticipation. Dull nausea instead of radiant joy. For a darker memory overshadowed and tainted the good.

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><p>FIVE YEARS AGO<p>

Emma wanted to explore the woods near the castle, and Snow White had given her permission as long as her father also approved. She had hurried off to look for him and ended up led around the castle from room to room and back again, since the servants continually informed her of his move to another location. She once again found herself back at the corridor she had traversed at the beginning of her search nearly an hour prior, and collapsed to the floor, looking hopelessly up at the ceiling. _Looks like it's not happening today_, she conceded. Just then, faintly, like a soft tickle in her ear, she heard the familiar timbre of her father's voice carrying down the corridor. She turned her head in the direction from whence it came and concentrated on the barely audible sound, attempting to determine a more precise origin. _At the end of the hall, in the room around the corner_. She rose to her feet with a grin, setting off in a sprint down the corridor, her golden hair bouncing against her back. She rounded the corner only to be promptly halted by Snow who stood in the door frame, her back to Emma.

Snow turned around and her eyes widened as they landed on her daughter. She spoke under her breath, "I thought you were outside." Even though it sounded more like a statement than a question to her, Emma shook her head and opened her mouth in attempt to reply. Her mother didn't wait for what she was about to say; instead, as she abruptly and firmly instructed her to return to her bed chambers. _Immediately_.

"But Papa—" Emma peered between Snow and the door frame to see David, talking with someone of whom she barely caught a glimpse before Snow took her by the shoulders and knelt down, eye level with her daughter.

"Emma," her voice was low and strained, "do as I say and go. Now." There was a sense of urgency in Snow's eyes as she pleaded with her young daughter, but there also existed something else—an unfamiliar emotion whose presence behind her mother's eyes was foreign to Emma as she studied her. She had never seen such a hardness, such a cold darkness shadow her eyes before. It frightened Emma. "Go," she repeated, her voice firmer, pushing her back the way she came.

Emma didn't know the reasoning behind the request, but turned and ran back the way she came. The look in Snow's eyes was enough to get her feet moving at once. As she ran, curiosity began to overtake her sense of precaution. She slowed and then altogether stopped running any further down the corridor. She silently crept back to the corner, slinked back against the cold stone wall, and slowed her breathing in attempts to overhear the conversation. Her heart pounded hard in her chest. They spoke in hushed tones, but Emma closed her eyes and concentrated on the familiar voices of her parents and the unfamiliar voice that replied in an excessive variance of pitch.

"So what are you saying, exactly?" Snow's voice was deep and almost accusatory.

"I'm saying," the unfamiliar voice replied curtly, "that if she is your daughter, that means she was born of true love. Being born of true love, dearie, should give her light magic. Simply bring her to me and I can train her. _That_ will be your defense against the Evil Queen's threats."

"She's but a child," David responded. "We will not subject her to something so dangerous."

"Yes, we have to find another way."

"It is the only way," the stranger spit back. "If you want to protect your kingdom."

Emma furrowed her brow. From what she knew of the Evil Queen, she was banished from their kingdom long ago. Yet she was presenting some threat that her parents were concerned enough about to seek outside counsel. The kingdom was in danger. Her hands tightened into fists at the thought. She heard tell of the way her parents fought against the Evil Queen and reclaimed their kingdom before she was born. They defeated her then; certainly they can defeat her now.

But this stranger was proposing that _she_ was the defense they needed, the only way to protect their kingdom... And yet her parents were refusing on account of her young _age_. Emma glowered as indignation rose hotly in her chest.

Her ears twitched at the sound of footsteps approaching. Snow would surely reprimand her for disobeying, once she sees her in the corridor instead of her bed chambers. She panicked and threw her arms over her head as she slid against the wall into a crouch, squeezing her eyes shut. Suddenly, an inner wind rushed through Emma's body, from her toes to her fingertips and out through her scalp.

"Please, if you keep looking, I'm sure you'll find another way," Snow's voice pleaded as it moved into the corridor and stopped in front of Emma.

Emma braced herself as she opened one eye and peaked over her arm. To her surprise, Snow didn't send a single glance in her direction. She continued watching them as her father stopped in front of her without a glance, either. "We will pay you generously for your time," David followed up.

The stranger's voice neared and she lifted her head further to get a good look at him as he passed in front of her. "A deal's a deal," he pointed a finger at them. "I will do what I can. But no promises." She stared at him for a moment before he abruptly disappeared. His menacingly dancing voice, his devilish face, his exaggerated gestures... certainly he was the infamous "Dark One." What were her parents doing, consorting with the _Dark One_?

Her parents shared a concerned look between each other as they breathed their daughter's name before they continued down the corridor. Once they disappeared from view, Emma stood with a rush, the tips of her fingers tingling. "They didn't see me," she said to herself, feeling both astonished yet slightly triumphant.

"Ah yes," the Dark One's voice sounded from behind her shoulder as she jumped at its unexpected return. "You seem to severely underestimate your power, dearie."

She turned to face him, straightening her back and holding her head high with an air of confidence, despite the fear in her eyes. She cleared her throat. "My power... I overheard you talking—"

"Haven't your parents taught you not to spy on others?"

Emma lowered her eyes. "I was curious," she replied softly. "My mother told me to return to my room, without explaining anything. As if I was naught but a child."

"Oh, but a child you are, dearie. And children are to leave the important conversations to the adults," he replied bitingly.

"I am no child," Emma affirmed, lifting her gaze to meet the Dark One's large, dark eyes. "You said my magic can save the kingdom. As such, I offer myself so you can train me to do just that. I am old enough to choose my own fate. My parents refuse to make this decision on my behalf, but I am making this decision for myself. For my kingdom." She stepped forward, expectantly.

The imp cackled shrilly. He deliberately approached her, a menacing sparkle in his eyes. Emma swallowed hard as he neared her, holding her hands tightly in front of her, but she remained firm. He looked her up and down and then took her face in his hand, turning it from one side to another. "Your parents were adamant about not letting me even examine you," he spoke as slowly as his eyes studied her. He held her face square and squinted. The Dark One suddenly plucked a strand of Emma's hair, startling her. He released her face from his grasp and conjured forth a vial filled with a lucent liquid. He delicately placed her hair inside, swirling the glass container. He held the vial at eye level and stared intently. Emma waited with baited breath.

His gaze slowly moved from the vial to Emma's face. "But now I see why." He stepped back disapprovingly. With a wave of his hand, the vial vanished as quickly as it appeared.

Emma's face fell. "What do you mean?"

"You are of no interest to me any longer. Now go run along," he replied with a gesturing sweep of his hand.

"Wait—" Emma reached forward just as he disappeared once more before her eyes. She turned around and back again. With a horrified expression on her face, she furrowed her brows and looked at the floor where he last stood, completely stunned.

No explanation. She could not—would not—settle for that this time, either.

Emma took off in a sprint down the corridor toward the gatehouse. Without regard, she weaved through the bustling servants as she ran through the castle—even neglecting her usual apology if she accidentally knocked something out of their hands. Almost having made it outside in a clean run, she ran directly into one of the guards as she attempted to pass through the castle entrance. She fell backwards after the impact.

"Are you fine there, little miss?" the guard held out a hand for her to take.

"Yeah," Emma replied as she tucked her hair behind her ear.

"Where are you headed outside the castle walls in such a hurry?" His eyes studied her.

"Um..." She raced through her thoughts for an excuse as she rose to her feet without accepting his help. "Playing a game. With Papa. Gave me a head start," she flashed a smile.

"Ah, best of luck to ya' then," the guard winked at her as she nodded back.

Picking up speed once again and racing out of the castle, Emma wasn't even sure where she was headed. All she knew was that she had to find the Dark One. She needed to know what he meant. How did he lose interest in her so quickly? What was that liquid inside inside the vial?

When she was far enough into the surrounding woods where she was sure no one would hear her, she shouted, "Dark One!" She jumped over a fallen tree trunk. "What did you mean by that?" She looked around as she ran, hoping to spot his impish silhouette behind a group of trees. _Summon him by his name. _ "Runpelsil... Runpelstikim... Rump—" she tripped over a bundle of tree roots and landed on her hands and knees, breathing heavily. "What was it," she whispered through her teeth. "Rumpel...stilkin...stilskin. _Rumpelstiltskin_!"

"You sure have a lot of gumption, dearie," the impish voice reappeared behind her.

Emma turned her head to see the Dark One before her once more. "Please," she said, rotating to face him, remaining low on the ground. "I need to know what you meant. You wanted me before. But now I am no longer an interest? Why? Can I not be the defense my kingdom needs after all?"

He studied the determination in the young girl's eyes. "Knowing the truth will cost you. It would be in your best interest to remain ignorant, child."

"I am not a child," Emma remained adamant. "I may be young, but I am a princess—and princesses have a responsibility higher than any other my age. This is concerning my kingdom."

The Dark One narrowed his eyes. "And what will you trade in return?"

Emma furrowed her brow. "You said that the truth will cost me. And yet I will still have a debt to be payed?"

"What you seek is knowledge, and knowledge has a price." He shifted his weight as if he was losing patience. "Though the truth will cost you as I said, it will do _me_ no profit."

"I don't have much of my own. If it's gold you want, my parents have some—"

"I have no need of gold, dearie. I am much more interested in the invaluable."

Emma's mind went blank. Invaluable? What could she offer that he'd accept? She became desperate as she couldn't think of anything to offer. "Whatever it is you desire of me, Dark One... sir," she added awkwardly, unsure how to address him, "I will give."

The imp chuckled. "Younglings should learn how to be careful with their words when striking deals. But you have already spoken, and I will agree to our newly forged contract. The day will come when your debt will be fulfilled." He clapped his hands in finality, and the sensation of weight pressed on Emma's shoulders briefly before it faded. Whether it disappeared altogether or Emma just became used to the feeling, she could not determine.

Emma looked expectantly at him.

"You heard what I told Snow White and David," the Dark One breathed. "It is light magic I am interested in."

"Yes, I did. And I have magic. You said so yourself, that I 'underestimate my power.'"

"Ah, but your power is not _light_ magic."

Emma furrowed her brow in disbelief. "Not... light magic?" She lowered her head and stared at the ground. Her heart hammered in her chest. She was almost afraid to speak aloud the words echoing in her mind, but the need for knowledge always won out. She raised her eyes to him. "What magic is it?"

The imp smirked. "Why, dark magic, of course."

Emma's mouth fell slack and her stomach churned. She lowered her eyes as she nearly whispered, "How? How is that possible?"

"I think you know why, dearie. Like I said, the truth will cost you. Now you have to bear it." With an extravagant wave of his hand, the Dark One blinked out of Emma's peripheral vision.

She didn't want to believe it. It couldn't be true. No. The imp had to be lying. He was playing a game with her. A cruel joke. She was the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, established True Love of the land. And True Love produces light magic_. _Right?_  
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Emma gripped her head in her hands. _No, no, no, no. _She scrambled to her feet and ran. Away from her thoughts, away from their implications.

The image of Snow's smiling face as she sang her back to sleep after a nightmare flashed in her mind. "_Sweet child of mine, more precious than any sight. With lips as red as rubies, hair as golden as the light," _Snow's lithe melody reverberated in her memory's ear.

_No_. She pushed herself to run harder. Hot tears burned her eyes, a dagger twisted in her heart.

The memory faded but was immediately replaced by an equally painful image of David laughing as he chased her around her room, threatening to tickle her, just as her precious sailor doll fell from her hands and flopped to the floor behind her. He picked it up and dangled it just above her reach, teasing her with glee in his eyes just before sweeping her into his warm arms. "_Your Papa sure loves to hear your charming laugh."_

Emma's vision blurred. She refused to stop running despite the burning in her lungs and the stinging cramps in her sides.

She veered left as she crossed onto a path, not seeing the group of horses pulling a carriage straight for her until it was almost too late. The horses reared with a shrill whinny, pulling to a quick stop at the hand of the driver, as Emma stumbled backwards. The carriage door opened and a dark figure emerged, revealing a woman elegantly dressed in black and purple robes, with dark hair pulled into a twist on the back of her head and a large amethyst pendant resting above her bosom. She moved in an air of importance as she approached Emma. "Watch where you are going, do you not recognize what path you are on?" she chastised.

Emma stared up at the woman, her cheeks streaked with tears and dirt. She wasn't aware of where she was, how far and in which direction she ran. But at least, the longer she looked at her, the more sure Emma was regarding the woman's identity. She hastily rose to her feet. "The Evil Queen," she said under her breath. _T__he power I possess inside _is_ light magic._ She channeled all her emotions and energy to her fingertips as she threw her hands out before her, a wave of magic bursting forth with Emma stumbling backwards in recoil.

The queen arched an eyebrow and nonchalantly raised a hand, absorbing the flow of magic into her palm. She laughed gutturally. "You really think your amateur dark magic would do anything to _me_?"

Emma's legs gave way. "It can't be true," she mumbled.

The queen grew exasperated. "You have wasted enough of my time, child. Be gone." She turned and headed toward the carriage.

"I have light magic! I have to..." She cried out at the queen's back. "I was born of true love," the last word tumbled from her lips as a sob escaped. She cowered to the ground in despair.

The queen halted. "True love...?" She swiveled to face the child and studied her. Blonde hair tangled and abused from running, but long and golden enough. A dress marked with dirt and grass stains, but tailored finely enough. Age seemingly young enough... "Tell me, are you the young princess?"

Emma didn't respond.

The queen approached the sobbing girl again. "Are your parents Prince David and... Snow White?"

Emma lifted her head. "I had thought so," her voice quivered. Her face shifted from tight anguish to fallen disbelief. "But I don't have light magic. It can't be..."

The queen narrowed her eyes as she contemplated the scenario before her. The longer she mulled over her thoughts, the higher the corner of her mouth began to slowly curve upwards. "You seem to be struggling over what is the truth and what are lies. I can let you see the truth with your own eyes."

Emma raised her eyebrows. "How?"

The queen gestured with her hand as a looking glass magically appeared. "Whoever holds this mirror and looks upon it will be able to gaze into their past."

Emma hesitated. She glanced from the mirror to the queen. "It's a trick. You'll make me see something conjured by you."

"Not if it is your magic that powers the mirror," the queen presented the mirror before her with a flashy smile.

Emma swallowed and stood, cautiously reaching for the looking glass. She held it in her hands and peered up at the queen in uncertainty.

"Focus your energy and channel your thoughts onto the mirror's surface."

Emma looked into the mirror as her terrified expression stared back at her. She didn't _want_ to see it, not really. But if there was a chance she could still her heart instead of confirming her fears, she would press forth. Snow always spoke about having faith...

She closed her eyes and brought her fears to the surface of her thoughts. She opened her eyes and her reflection distorted. Then all at once, the surface of the mirror blurred completely. Slowly, a figure came into focus. It was Snow White, sitting in a rocking chair, a half-knitted blanket in front of her. A blissful smile played on her lips as her fingers worked the needles. She looked up and to the side, focusing on something in the distance. She nodded her head and moved to stand. As she folded the blanket over the arms of the chair, Emma noticed Snow's round and prominent belly. The tension began to release from Emma's shoulders and the mirror's surface blurred as if in response.

But a new image soon appeared. Again, Emma saw Snow, this time carrying a small baby swaddled in a bundle of cloth. For a moment, Emma's heart warmed, the corners of her mouth softly raised. But there was something about the emotion on Snow's face that disconcerted her. Snow's mouth was tightly drawn and her eyes were sullen. She approached David, who looked at the crying babe with a mixture of horror and concern in his eyes. Her mouth moved, but Emma couldn't hear her words.

The mirror's surface blurred again, another image focusing in its place. The baby now thrashed in a cradle, and a woman—whom she quickly recognized as her childhood nurse—was inspecting the baby. Snow stood nearby, her face distorted with worry, her hand near her mouth. _Was the baby sick?_ The nurse swaddled the baby tightly, turning to Snow with a smile. She spoke and Snow nodded in response, her face slowly softening as the conversation continued.

The image in the mirror faded. Emma continued staring intently, hoping for something else to appear to help her make sense of the short scenes she saw. _What was it_, she thought as the looking glass didn't respond. _What made her so concerned about the baby?_

The glass's surface flickered and a new vision came into focus. Along a path through the woods, a cloaked figure leisurely strolled. The figure halted suddenly and looked around. Bringing a gloved hand to lower the cloak's hood, the figure revealed long, ebony locks of hair and a familiar face. Snow narrowed her eyes in concentration, rotating her head slightly. After a moment, she shook her head and continued walking. Mid-stride, Snow paused again and lifted her head. She advanced slowly and carefully, turning away from the path and continuing through the wood while keeping her sight on the underbrush. Her eyes locked onto something in the near distance and she methodically approached it. Her eyes widened as her mouth fell open, raising her hands to cover it. She slowly lowered herself to the ground, brows furrowed, eyes broken. She reached into the thicket in front of her, lifting a bundle to her chest.

Emma couldn't breathe. She stared at the mirror, unable to tear her eyes away.

The bundle was moving. Snow rearranged the cloth to reveal the distorted face of a tiny, weeping babe. She cradled the baby in her arms and peered down the path on which she had been walking. She stood and mouthed something to the baby. She held the baby close to her chest and began to run.

In a flash, a series of the previous images replayed on the mirror's surface, locking into a logical sequence. Snow showing the baby to David, who shared the concerned look on his face. The nurse inspecting the baby as Snow appeared increasingly relieved. But then a new scene continued the vision even further.

Leaning over a crib, she carefully placed the bundled babe down and then straightened her back. She turned and removed her cloak, placing it on a stand. Without the baby in her arms and without the cloak covering, Emma noticed a detail she previously missed in the other images. Snow's stomach was just just as large as the first. She wore the same dress. And now as Snow walked back to the rocking chair, Emma noticed the half-finished blanket where Snow left it in the first image, no further completed.

Emma furrowed her brows.

Snow suddenly stopped and headed back to the crib, making a face as if cooing at the baby. She reached in and lifted the bundle, as if to comfort the now flailing baby. But something about the baby didn't look right. A strange color tinted the baby's hands and arms in an ominous mix of black and deep purple. Suddenly a burst of the ominous color exploded from the baby and charged into Snow's core, throwing her backwards from the force. The squirming baby dropped back into the crib; and now on the floor across the room, Snow grasped her belly, her face contorted in anguish.

Then the mirror darkened and all Emma could see was her pitiful reflection on its surface once more. Tears streaked her face and her eyes were hollow.

The Evil Queen slipped the mirror out of Emma's hands, the girl too stunned to respond. "It appears fair Snow White can keep a secret after all," the queen spoke under her breath in contempt. "I can't imagine how she kept such a dark secret for all those years. For what... how old are you now? Eleven... years? That's a long time to keep up with such lies." The queen watched the young girl.

"A lifetime of lies," Emma finally responded, feeling cracks splitting through her spirit. She fell to the ground. "Nothing was as it seemed." She stared at her hands. "Always talking about how dangerous it was to use magic. And just like earlier today when the Dark One was in the castle... She told me to leave, as if I was in danger. I heard him. The Dark One was asking for me. But—" Emma covered her face in her hands.

The queen ran her tongue along her teeth and raised an arched eyebrow. "Acting as if she was protecting you from magic and from the Dark One out of concern for _you_, when she was only protecting herself, her image? How appallingly deceitful..." The queen apathetically pursed her lips. "It must be hard to return to your castle after this. Considering all the lies." She bent closer to the girl. "Why don't you come back with me. We have something quite in common—"

"But you're the Evil Queen, why—"

"And?" She laughed. "What does that mean to you anymore? So I tried to kill Snow White more than a decade ago. But as I was saying, we have something in common, you and I." She lowered her voice as if sharing a secret between the two of them, "We both see Snow White for who she truly is." She held out a gloved hand to the broken girl.

Emma looked from the queen's hand to her face. "But in the end, you're still a queen and I'm but a..."

"Even more in common," she offered a smile. "Both cast out. Me, banished. You, abandoned. I say we can do well together. If you want, I can train you in that magic you've been forbidden to practice."

She was silent, contemplating. "You would do that?"

The queen nodded with a smile.

Emma looked back at her hand and took it, allowing her to help her to her feet. The queen turned and headed back to the carriage, gesturing to her guards, as Emma followed behind her. At the door, the driver offered a hand to help Emma into the carriage. She looked up at the queen. "I don't know how I could properly thank you, your... highness," she fumbled.

"Start with calling me Regina."


End file.
